I'm counting down to vacation. I'm doing my best to lesson plan within a limited amount of time (because truly doing my best in an uncapped amount of time drives me up the wall; just the thought of it has got my blood pressure rising). My lesson plans are alright. My actual lessons fall short of what I plan for each day. But that's OK because I'm a first year teacher. Slow and steady. I'm getting my feet wet.
I'm counting down to vacation because my goal for this year was to survive. And I'm surviving. I'm in awe of my coworkers who say sweeping statements of their first years of teaching like "I would never have been able to do a hands-on project like this in my first two years of teaching--the students would have eaten me alive!" I'm in awe because I feel pressure to have such awesome lesson plans now, but I just can't manage it yet and apparently, I shouldn't be surprised if I can't properly manage it for the next year and a half. I feel so young and naïve. My coworkers and former teachers talk about how the years in teaching flew by--yet my days, hours, and periods tick... tick... tick... slower than I've ever felt time move.
At the same time, when I look at old journal entries from just a couple of months ago, I'm surprised at how much I have learned and progressed. Three months in, and I know I've barely scratched the surface of what it means to be a classroom teacher in an area like mine. It's sometimes daunting to think of how far I have to go before I become the teacher that I want to be. And, well, I may never be the teacher whom I want to be. For now, I'll have to settle with the fact that I am a teacher, for better or for worse. If I can't be a great teacher, I'll at least be a good teacher. If I can't be a good teacher, I'd still rather be a good-teacher-in-progress than not teaching at all.
One more week! Make it a good one. Or a decent one. Or just get through it.